Doorways Undesired
by dixiedream1n
Summary: His eyes fixed on the expanse of stars and nebulae through the opening ripped in the fabric of space-time.


******A/N:** promptfic: lightning, doorway

Post-Avengers.

* * *

To say that a burst of lightning created a momentary doorway in space was really only _half_ fantastic. Or rather, it was fantastic (in the 'cool' sense) but only half impossible. Or maybe, as Dr Jane Foster was determined to prove, not at all impossible no matter how un_believable_ it seemed.

This theory was based partly on the long-accepted understanding that lightning split the air, creating a pocket of vacuum – the collapse of which of course caused the loud clap of thunder that Thor was so fond of; but then again nearly everything Thor did was rather loud, if usually cheerfully so, so his opinion didn't count – and partly on the dimensional-bridge theories that Jane had apparently been studying back when the big blond alien had first arrived on Earth via one of those very lightning-like Asgardian 'bridges'. Tony wasn't an expert on astrophysics (although he could be if he really wanted to, as evidenced by the studying he'd done the night before that first Avengers meeting on board the helicarrier), usually being more enthralled by things he could touch and see and code into, but the argument that Foster and Bruce Banner currently had going in the opposite corner of the private Tower lab sounded interesting enough for the genius engineer-slash-programmer to keep half an ear tuned to the chatter while he kept his fingers dug into the delicate mechanical innards of one mis-firing boot jet.

It was just as well he had – he only had about two seconds' warning, between Jane's squeak, Bruce's low sound that although wordless still made for an unmistakable "uh-oh", and Jarvis' nervous-sounding "I believe-". Reflexes honed by years of diving out of the way of accidental explosions sent Tony flinging himself to the side and rolling behind a metal lab station just before the air was split by a flare of blindingly white light and a deep rumble that was _not_ thunder – a low, ground-vibrating resonance that lasted so long he finally uncurled again and carefully poked his head above the countertop to see what was going on. Dark eyes widened, a deep careful inhalation following, jaw slightly slack as he gazed in horrified amazement at the cat's-eye-shaped portal opened midair where the two scientists had been working.

"Oh my God," Jane's low murmur sounded from somewhere across the lab, proving that she at least was in one piece. The lack of large green roaring things in the room suggested Bruce was likely also unharmed... also, the quiet, unintelligible answer a few seconds after. Tony couldn't manage to get his voice to work enough yet to put in a two cents of his own – a rarity – with his heart in his throat and his eyes fixed on the expanse of stars and nebulae through the opening ripped in the fabric of space-time.

"Sir? Sir?" Jarvis' concerned tones finally broke through his frozen mind, and Tony turned to slide back down the side of the cabinet and just _breathe_, one hand lifting to wave randomly at the air in reassurance; a reassurance he didn't entirely feel. Yes, he was fine, physically. Not _happy_. Knowing about an experiment to create a space door on demand was a entirely different thing from actually having said space door open up, unplanned, _indoors_, in _his_ vicinity. He was really going to have to have a word with Jane about _how far_ to take a project like this in the lab, as opposed to, like, the middle of Central Park at midnight or something. (Not that he was really one to talk, having caused many a workshop disaster of his own, but then he wasn't playing with _space-time doorways_.) Especially since if Tony never, personally, faced another interdimensional portal for the rest of his life, it would really be too soon. Flying into space through one with no promise of getting back alive, then very nearly not making it back at all, left a man a little wary after all.

Which all left Tony Stark sitting on a tile floor listening to his cohorts' voices raise at each other and trying just to breathe deep enough to stop his heart from pounding. He leaned his head back against cool metal with eyes closed, palms flat on the floor next to him, and focused on the constant, soothing hum of the arc in his chest, reassuring in its promise to keep his heart beating, keep his synapses firing... keep him alive for as long as it burned cool and gentle through his sternum. Finally he felt the muscles along his shoulders and spine loosen, felt his lungs expand easier, and finally, slowly, opened his eyes, grateful both that the lab was still there and that no one (except for Jarvis, but Jarvis saw _everything_ and had been privy to all Tony's most embarrassing secrets since the AI's Day One) had witnessed his little panic attack. He cleared his throat a bit, testing it, and took a couple more deep breaths before climbing to his feet and turning around, ready now to give the two scientists more than a small piece of his mind.

His rousing temper was arrested by the concerned hazel eyes and non-threatening face immediately on the other side of the table. Over Bruce's shoulder, he noted with relief as Jane did something to one glass computer panel that made the air shimmer as it finished closing around the aperture (and _there_ was the rumble of thunder finally, quiet for not having been slammed shut so fast, but audible), but most of his attention was taken up by the no-taller but more muscular man a mere two feet away. One corner of his mouth twisting up edgily, the inventor drew a sharp breath and prepared a milder form of his planned diatribe, again – and then Bruce opened his mouth.

"Tony, you alright?"

And he remembered then. Bruce – as the Other Guy – had been the one to leap from a skyscraper and snag his falling, damaged armor from midair before he could become a Stark-splatter on the pavement of New York. Bruce – as the Other Guy – had been the one to roar worry and fear when the arc reactor momentarily failed, waking him from unconsciousness with an electric surge of adrenaline. Bruce – as himself – had been the one to stay close by his side for the rest of the day as though to make sure his unexpected and valued new friend _stayed_ awake and alive until Pepper's plane finally got through the chaotic air traffic and Tony could be handed over to her care not unlike a precious package, a situation that had at once bemused, annoyed, and strangely touched the billionaire. Bruce, if anyone _could_, would be able to guess exactly what had been going through his mind just a minute ago.

Taking a deep breath, Tony looked past again to where Jane was doing something hurriedly to the computers, half-frowned again... but nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah. Don't do that again. Take it up on the roof and – " he gestured tightly "do it there. Whatever that is. If that thing had-" Another half-finished gesture... and then, as Jane finally turned to look at the men, he finally found more words, his mind amping back up to its usual snarky speed as he scolded, grouched, and generally deflected attention from his own brief weakness, a necessary skill well exercised and long-since perfected.

Someday he might be able to face down a lightning-born doorway into space again. Actually, with Thor around, like it or not, he more than likely _would_. (There had already been good-natured threats of Asgardian friends visiting, apparently 'again'.) But not yet. Not now. Not today. He refused.

Rant over, Tony left the other two to figure out exactly what had happened (_without_ making it happen again), started the process of tracking down the micro-tools that had scattered across the floor when he'd dove, and finally answered Dummy's querulous chirp-whines with a rub-scratch against his eldest and most affectionate robot's pressure-sensitive metal casing. The faceless but somehow still-expressive mechanical arm whirred and extended slightly to nudge tighter into the reassuring hand, finally settling his 'head' down low against the human's hip where it received a couple more absent pats while the haunted dark eyes of his creator slid back to the now-normal-looking far corner of the lab.

His _mind_ knew that all was safe again. Probably hadn't actually been in much danger before. Still, with the memory of a Chitauri baseship burned into his memory against just such a backdrop of alien stars, a cold shiver traced up his spine.


End file.
